Punk Shopper

Filling the cart with Bebe Buell

By Sam Pfeifle

Bebe Buell, playing with Whitey and Heidi, at the Skinny, March 10, at 9 p.m.

BEBE BUELL: still rockin’ and still fine.

For her show at the Skinny Saturday night, where she’ll be recording a live album to be the first release on the Skinny label, Bebe Buell will be unveiling at least one brand-new tune. She calls it “The Mother of Rock ’n’ Roll,” and it starts out like this: “From sea to shining sea, there’s not a soul who needs to rock like me.”

There’s something more than a little sublime in having her recite those lyrics to me over a cup of hot chocolate. But this is what Bebe Buell, once leader of the Portland/New York punk outfit the Gargoyles, has become. Yes, she still rocks, and, yes, she still looks damn fine, but, in her own words, she feels “like a grown-up now,” like the mother she is; most famously to Liv Tyler, but to all young rockers as well.

“Everybody needs a mother,” she says, laughing, “even rock ’n’ roll. Patti Smith has decided she doesn’t want to do it anymore, so now it’s me.” With a book (Rebel Heart: An American Rock ’n’ Roll Journey, St. Martin’s — and check out the back cover, woo-hoo) and an album (Oozin’ with ‘tude, Rhino) both scheduled for an August release, it looks like one of punk’s original bad girls is going legitimate. And she clearly loves it.

So what do you do with a mother like Bebe — who throws around phrases like “My friend Sebastian Bach” and “I’m pretty famously hetero” — on a Saturday afternoon? You take her shopping, of course. We took a spin through Enterprise Records, on Congress Street in Portland, so she could help me fill out my vinyl collection.

It was a manic experience; the old kid in the candy store effect. Here’s the record-by-record account.

 

HIGHWAY 61 REVISITED, Bob Dylan (Columbia, 1965)

Bebe called ahead to make sure Enterprise had this in stock, and rushes over for it as soon as Bob Wirtz, Enterprise owner, has taken her coat. “How cool does he look on that album?” she asks rhetorically. “That was when he was good visually and artistically.”

 

DIAMOND DOGS, David Bowie (RCA, 1974)

Sifting through the Bowie, Bebe asks, “are we picking albums just for the covers?” Bowie’s albums, like the previous Dylan, seem to combine the best of both worlds, making for tough choices. She finally settles on Diamond Dogs “because it’s got “Rebel, Rebel” on it.”

 

AEROSMITH and TOYS IN THE ATTIC, Aerosmith (CBS, 1973 and 1975)

Among the “A”s, Bebe can hardly help herself. She holds up Rock in a Hard Place. “This is Steven Tyler’s favorite Aerosmith album,” she says, “but it’s not mine (1976’s Rocks).” So we don’t get that. She first settles on Toys in the Attic, with “Walk this Way, ” and “Sweet Emotion,” clearly a rock classic, but then she catches her breath, “What’s this? Oh you have to have this,” she says, grabbing the self-titled EP. She puts the two aside to decide later, but I end up buying them both.

 

DOUBLE FANTASY, John Lennon and Yoko Ono (Geffen, 1980)

Hoping to find Sergeant Pepper’s, Bebe whisks out this lesser known album from the Beatles section. “I love it because it’s the last record he ever made,” she says, “and I love it because it has “Watching the Wheels” on it. It’s a song about change, about growing, about learning.”

 

PARALLEL LINES, Blondie (Chrysalis, 1978)

For this she is succinct, handing me the record saying only, “You have to have Parallel Lines. That’s a classic rock record.” I ask her about Blondie’s recent comeback. “I think when you’re as brilliant and talented as Debbie, I’m happy to see her at any time in her life,” she says. “She’s an ageless rocker. Like when you go to see AC/DC, they’re ancient, but they still rock.”

She returns to the AC/DC section and is disappointed not to find Back in Black. “I hope you’ve got that,” she says. I assure her I do, although not on vinyl. “Good,” she says, “That’s the most important record ever made.”

 

ELECTRIC, The Cult (Sire Records, 1987)

“I don’t want you to kill me,” Bebe says, “but I love this record. I love The Cult. I loved The Cult.”

 

GET HAPPY, Elvis Costello and the Attractions (Columbia, 1980)

She hands me this saying simply, “This is my favorite Elvis Costello album.” Later, when I read the back, I notice a note from producer Nick Lowe: “. . . we can now assure hi-fi enthusiasts and/or people who never bought a record made before 1967 that with the inclusion of this extra music time they will find no loss of sound quality due to ‘groove cramming’ as the record nears the end of each face (i.e. the hole in the middle). Now get happy. Your friend, Nick Lowe.” There are twenty total tracks, not bad for 1980.

 

LONDON CALLING, The Clash (CBS, 1979)

Bebe just hands this to me.

 

TWISTIN ON THE DEVIL’S FORK, LIVE AT CBGB’S 1977 & 1978, The Dead Boys (Hell Yeah/Bacchus Archives, ?)

This album is seriously lo-fi, great late-’70s punk rock. Bebe gets rather excited for this one. “I didn’t even know this album existed,” she almost screams. I can tell she’s envious I’ll be taking this one home. She’s quickly distracted, however, when she catches a glimpse of Das Daman, her current fiancé Jim Wallerstein’s band from the early ’90s/late ’80s — on the same SST label as the Minutemen, the Descendents, and Black Flag. On the album, Wallerstein is listed as Jim Walters. “They did that because they thought Wallerstein was too hard to remember,” says Bebe. He’s also currently her rhythm guitarist, and may do some solo stuff soon. Bebe takes the Das Daman record home with her as a memento of sorts. As for marrying Wallerstein, she says “I’ve been married once before. It didn’t work out. This time, this is it.”

 

LIVE AT MAX’S KANSAS CITY, The Heartbreakers (Beggar’s Banquet, 1979)

This album is Bebe’s world, circa 1979. Classic New York punks, the Heartbreakers originally featured Johnny Thunders and Jerry Nolan of the New York Dolls, Richard Hell of Television, and Walter Lure. They toured in ’76 with the Sex Pistols, the Clash, and the Damned on the fairly famous “Anarchy Tour” that ended up pissing off the British government. This album features Thunders and Lure with Billy Rath and Ty Styx who did a short series of “farewell gigs” at Max’s in 1978.

 

CHEAP THRILLS, Big Brother & the Holding Company (Columbia, 1968)

“How could you not buy this,” Bebe says of the still-sealed album with perhaps the best album art of all time, by R. Crumb.

 

ROCK AND ROLL OVER, Kiss (Casablanca, 1976)

Somewhat reluctantly, Bebe grabs this. “Oh, because it has “Calling Dr. Love” on it,” she says by way of explanation. For some reason it makes her reminisce: “I wish they had the first Animals record. I remember bouncing around the house yelling ‘I gotta get out of this place’ when I was, like, 12. One day my mother just came and broke that album over her knee. She hated that even more than when she heard Robert Plant singing ‘Squeeze me baby, till the juice runs down my leg.’ She slammed open the door screaming ‘what did he say?’ I said, ‘squeeze the lemon to make lemon juice.’ ”

 

ROCKET TO RUSSIA, Ramones (Sire, 1977)

“Everyone would expect me to pick the Stones over the Ramones,” Bebe says, “but today, I’m picking the Ramones over the Stones because people always pick the Stones.”

 

RAW POWER, Iggy and the Stooges (CBS, 1973)

This almost didn’t make it in the bag. We’re at our pre-ordained spending limit of $100, and at the counter. Looking through the pile, Bob asks, “Where’s Iggy?” Bebe gasps and runs over to the corner, bringing back Raw Power, with its bare-chested Iggy cover, for me, and keeping a rare Stooges album with Iggy out in the crowd on the cover for herself. “Iggy called this his ‘Sea of Hands’ ” Bebe says. He’s not simply crowd surfing, but crowd walking, supported only by fans’ hands under his feet, still singing into the mic. “That’s the greatest Rock ‘n’ Roll photo ever taken,” says Bebe. “He’s the only one that ever pulled that off. Stiv [Bators of the Dead Boys] tried it once and fell. Iggy, Stiv, and Lux [Interior of the first psychobilly band, The Cramps] were the most agile, the most rubbery, lead singers ever. I once saw Lux jump off a Marshall amp in six-inch heels and women’s underwear, and land on his feet.”

Sam Pfeifle can be reached at spfeifle@phx.com.